


Play The Game

by becsbunker



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Drinking, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, F/M, Threats, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-28 05:42:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16717525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/becsbunker/pseuds/becsbunker
Summary: Your life is thrown into chaos when your ex-husband, Fergus Mcleod, leader of the Hell Sons, is killed - leaving you and your 13 year old daughter in the middle of a war between the remaining members of Hell Sons and their biggest enemy run by the Winchesters - The Hunt.





	1. Chapter 1

The rain was pelting down as you stood in the church yard, umbrella in hand as the priest performed the funeral service. You watched in silence as the coffin containing your ex-husbands body was lowered down into the ground, a sense of remorse filling you. 

As much as you weren't on good terms with Fergus Macleod in the last year of his life, you'd never wish him harm. 

He may have been a terrible excuse of a husband, constantly cheating on you, and every aspect of his criminal involvement as a notorious biker gang boss made you feel uneasy, but he was a decent father to your daughter. He made sure Caitlyn had clothes on her back and food on the table, he'd spend time with her every week, and you could see how close they'd become even after your divorce 6 years earlier. 

It was fair to say your 13 year old was struggling with the death of her father, and honestly? You didn't even know where to begin to try and comfort her. 

Once the service was over, the dozens of people congregated came to give their condolences to both you, and the questionable excuse of his latest wife, Chantelle, for your loss. You could name no more than two of the people, knowing full well everyone else at this church was of no importance to Fergus and that they were just here because of his standing in the gang territory in this town. 

Honestly, they had more to fear being here than not. You had no interest in Fergus's business, but you knew that there would be chaos ensuing concerning his predecessor and who would take charge of the 'Hell Sons' now he was gone. 

The gang would be at risk of being taken over by rivals, mainly Fergus' eternal enemies, the Winchesters. 

More commonly known as 'The Hunt'. 

[[MORE]]

You could finally breathe a sigh of relief once you reached your car. Playing the heart broken widow was exhausting. You couldn't pretend Fergus was a good man, but listening to everyone roll off completely unrealistic stories in spite of him being gone just made you feel nauseous. The guy was dead, just let him rest. Why did they have to try and alter the memory of him? It just made you feel even more anxious to get home to Cait. 

Pulling into the drive of the house, you frowned as you saw an unfamiliar black porche parked in your usual space. 

Panic was the first thing that hit you. What if it was one of Fergus' guys here to negotiate? With adrenaline pumping through your veins at the thought of your daughter in danger, you grabbed the handgun from your bag and hooked it in the halter strapped around your thigh as you got out of the car. 

Cautiously and quietly, you opened the door, making your way into the house and looking out for anything out of the ordinary. The sounds of Caitlyn's laughter from the kitchen caught you off guard, followed by a familiar British voice.

"It's true. I never even learnt how to swim. Baths are even a fear of mine." 

"Wow. That's just embarrassing," Caitlyn shook her head with a smile, her eyes darting over to you as you entered the kitchen. 

"Mom," she got to her feet, giving you a hug as you held her tight, your hands cradling her head. 

"Hey, sweetie," you pressed a kiss to the top of her head before acknowledging the suited man standing in your kitchen.

"I wasn't expecting you, Mr Ketch." 

He smiled, giving a curt nod. "I did leave a message with Ronnie this morning." 

Well, that explains it. Your cousin was more than a little immersed in Arthur Ketch. You were sure he used her infatuation with him to his own means. 

Sure, he was an attractive, charming man with an accent. But he was also a notorious, sadistic ass when he wanted to be. There were times even Fergus was disturbed by his second in commands decisions.

"And how many times, please, call me Arthur," he added, pouring two large cups of coffee. 

_Just make yourself at home_. 

"How was the service?" Caitlyn asked quietly, her bright green eyes looking at you with sadness. 

"It was a lovely send off," you brushed a strand of her short dark hair behind her ear. "I put down the flowers you chose. We can go and visit whenever you like, OK?" 

Caitlyn nodded, brushing at the tears falling down her face. The sight was just heart breaking.

"I'm gonna have a shower," she forced a smile and gave you a quick kiss on the cheek before making her way upstairs. 

You waited until Cait had closed the bathroom door before you approached Arthur. 

"What are you doing here?" you questioned, mentally surveying his whole demeanour. Was he armed? What was his purpose being here? 

He handed you one of the mugs, his touch purposely holding longer than it had to. "I came to give my condolences. Fergus was a good colleague of mine. It was an honour to be his business partner," the lies rolled off his tongue with expertise, but you saw right through them. 

"And what will your role be in the business now he's gone?" you asked, taking a seat at the kitchen counter, still facing Arthur. 

He smiled, a hint of danger in his eyes. 

Instead of answering, he took a drink of coffee and sat down beside you. 

"Caitlyn is a good kid. Smart. Beautiful. Just like her Mother," he said. "I wonder if she inherited any of her father's traits?" 

"She was close to Fergus. He showed her a side many didn't get to see," you replied, keeping your cool despite the overwhelming urge to throw this treacherous snake out of the highest window. 

Arthur laughed, shaking his head to himself. "Wow. You're good, Ms Y/L/N." 

You frowned at him, your chest suddenly going tight as he leant closer, his lips almost brushing against your ear, "I meant her real father," he whispered, his breath fanning against your skin and sending goosebumps down your neck.

Your eyes widened as you backed away. 

"I don't know what the fuck you think you're game is here, but I am no part of it. Fergus is gone. What happens to Hell's Sons is obviously your call." 

Anger continued to rage through your veins as you got to your feet, pointing a finger at his chest, "but, you have no right to be in my house, uninvited, and make assumptions about my life," you hissed. 

He raised his hands in mock surrender, "I meant no offence." 

Getting up off the stool, he took a steady step closer, "I know Fergus wasn't much of a good husband to you, but he was great at what he did," he said. "I would like to continue with his legacy, as it were. That includes looking out for both Caitlyn, and you." 

You furrowed your brows. "That wasn't business related. I appreciate your concern, but we're fine as we are." 

"Are you quite sure about that?" his heated gaze trailed down your body, pausing at your mid thigh. 

Shit. The gun. 

He smirked knowingly as he saw your realisation. Clearly he'd clocked on to it when you stupidly opted to sit down earlier. 

"Like I said. We're fine as we are," you stated, moving past him to clear up the mugs. "If we're done here, you can find your way out of my house." 

"You know how to reach me if you change your mind," he replied shortly, the sound of his shoes against the wooden floors as he left. 

Yeah. _Not damn likely._

Leaning against the kitchen sink, you steadied your breathing. Trying to contemplate the whole conversation, mainly Ketch's accusation about Caitlyn's parentage, you told yourself there was nothing he could do, or prove to claim she was anyone's but Fergus'. 

You knew he was trying to get a rise out of you, trying to make it seem like you needed him on side with Fergus gone. Well, you weren't prepared to have that man in yours or your daughter's life. 

You weren't going to follow his rules or anyone else's. You were going to play your own game. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few weeks after the funeral, Fergus’ lawyer shows up with your ex husband’s will and you’re less than happy with the outcome.

You sat there in shock, scanning back through the pages in your hands before looking up at Chuck.

“This is a joke, right?”

“I'm afraid not, Ms Y/l/N. Fergus was very specific with his wishes,” he replied, taking off his glasses and resting them on the top of his head. “His business is to be left for Caitlyn when she turns 18, along with any valuables he owns.”

[[MORE]]

Sure. Just hand over some biker gang to your 18 year old. Because who wouldn't do that?

“And this house and estate to his bimbo wife. Yeah, I read that,” you scoffed.

“God, just when I thought I couldn't dislike that guy anymore he pulls shit like this. Even from his damn grave,” you tossed the papers onto the table, running a hand through your hair in exasperation. 

“So, when will you be kicking us out?”

The lawyer gave you a sympathetic look, collecting the papers and putting them back in his briefcase before getting up off the couch. 

“I have yet to visit Mrs Macleod in the next few days. I'll ensure you have enough time to get your affairs in order here. I am sorry, Y/N,” he replied.

“It's not your fault, Chuck,” you forced a smile, showing him out of the lounge and toward the front door. “So, it's just Caitlyn and Chantelle in the will? Can't say I'm surprised his Mom isn't in it.”

Mr Shurley nodded, pausing at the doorway, “I have to admit, it makes my job a little easier this way. Less house calls and so on. Not that giving you the news is easy,” he quickly stammered, “I just meant-”

“It's fine,” you raised a hand, dismissing his apology. “I know what you meant. Enjoy the rest of your day, Mr Shurley.”

Saying your goodbyes, you watched as Chuck left before pulling out your phone and calling Bela’s number as you walked through to the kitchen to pour yourself a much needed glass of wine.

A few rings later and she picked up, her British accent chiming. “Well, if it isn't the renowned Queen-bee of Lawrence,” sarcasm coated her voice as she answered.

You rolled your eyes, the phone balanced between your ear and shoulder as you raided the fridge for the new bottle of rosè. “I need to meet with you. I've got a job, if you're interested?”

“I could be. I'll meet you this afternoon at Brody’s diner,” she replied. “It'll be nice to have a girls catch up.”

The pair of you knew it wouldn't be a social catch up. Bela Talbot was a great thief, and had the capability to get a job done quick,  if you had the payout to give her. Other than that, you wouldn't trust her with anything. And you certainly wouldn't call her a ‘friend’.

“Sounds good to me.See you later,” you ended the call, getting back to your wine before changing into your work uniform.

Your shift at the gas n’ sip was going by without trouble and you were counting down the last couple of hours until you could meet Bela to sort out the dilemma of Fergus’ will. You were just restocking some shelves when a guy dressed in ripped jeans and a dark hoodie came into the shop, his truck parked up in the lot and he hadn't filled up with any gas.

He wasn't a local as far as you could tell, and by the way he was eyeing you with a hungry look over his face made it clear he didn't know who you were.

The man picked up some cans of beer before coming to the counter where you were waiting to total up his buys. The quicker this guy left, the better.

“I gotta say, you're a little too pretty to be working in a dump like this,” he said, arms resting against the counter as you scanned the beers.

“Well, someone's gotta do it,” you gave him a short smile. “That'll be $6,50.”

“Could you be a doll and grab me three bottles of vodka?” He pointed to the shelves behind you, the vodka on the top one.

Biting your tongue, you pulled the step ladder over and climbed up. leaning to the top shelf, you could feel your shirt rising up slightly and the man’s gaze on your back. You were so busy grabbing the bottles, you didn't realise anyone else had entered the shop until you were back on the ground, the sight of Dean Winchester and a couple of his biker crooks making your heart jump in your chest.

You hadn't seen the Winchester in months, but he somehow looked even better than you remembered. He'd grown out a slight beard, the scruff around his face just making him look that much more attractive and menacing. He removed his shades to reveal those jade green eyes that'd always captivated you from the moment you'd met him back in college. 

God, you hated how seeing him made you feel. How needy he made you feel. How much you wanted him.

“Maybe we can share it when you're off shift?” The man added with a charming smile, pulling you from your running thoughts.

“Thanks, but I'm good,” you replied shortly, and rang up the prices on the till. “That's $21.80 to pay.”

He hesitated for a moment before putting some notes on the counter, his hand coming to hold over yours as you were about to take them.

“Come on, you won't regret it.”

You clenched your jaw, about to make a response before he was abruptly slammed against the counter headfirst, making you jump back slightly at the sudden action.

Dean had his hand held against the side of the guys head, pressing him against the top with a look of rage over his face. “Take the hint, dude. She's not interested. Now get the fuck out of my town and don't come back,” he seethed, tossing him across the shop and into the middle shelf with a loud crash.

Disorientated and slightly injured, the guy struggled to his feet, eyes wide with fear as he made a beeline straight for the exit, the other bikers who'd been with Dean making sure he cleared off outside.

Once the truck was out of the parking lot, Dean turned to face you, the rage completely gone from his features and replaced by a smirk.

“Hey sweetheart, it's been a while.”

You rolled your eyes at his greeting, putting the cash away in the till. “I had that handled,” you deadpanned.

He let out a low whistle, watching as you walk past to pick up the mess that was now on the floor. “A thank you wouldn't hurt, y'know.”

Wow. You wanted to slap him.

“Like I'd ever thank you for anything. You've screwed up my life.”

“How the fuck d’ya work that one out?” he frowned defensively.

You scoffed, getting back to your feet and glaring back at him, “well, for starters, you killed Fergus.”

Dean shook his head. “That wasn't me,” he stated. “Trust me, darling, I wish I had been the one to pull the trigger on that asshole.”

You clenched your jaw at his response. The man clearly had no idea what a shit show your life could become prior to Fergus’ death. Maybe he was telling the truth. OK, it was highly likely he was telling the truth. That didn't mean you couldn't resent him for other things that he had been the cause of. Like the fact you had to marry Fergus in the first place.

“Just pay for your gas and get the fuck out of my store,” you snapped.  

He frowned, concern briefly passing his features before he brushed down his jacket, pulling out a wad of notes and tossing them on the counter nonchalantly. 

“Keep the change, kid,” he muttered, leaving just as swiftly as he'd entered.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 Summary: You have a meeting with Bela, who tells you that ‘the hunt’ are on your tail

You showed up a little early for your meet with Bela, ordering a much needed large coffee after the run in with Dean earlier.

That man always had the ability to get under your skin. As much as you tried to forget your past with him, the feelings you’d once had for him, they always seemed to come back to the surface whenever you saw him. And in a town like this, run by his biker gang and Fergus’, it was hard to avoid the guy.

Bela walked in wearing a slim fitting suit right on time, a signature smile over her face as she came and joined you at the furthest booth.

“Hello, stranger,” she greeted, sliding into the seat opposite.

“I ordered you a coffee, so we can get the false pleasantries out of the way,” you said simply, pushing over the mug of fresh coffee.

A smile tugged at the corner of her painted red lips. “Have I ever told you what a joy you are to be around?”

You rolled your eyes, digging a hand into your bag and pulling out an envelope before placing it on the table, inside it were the written instructions of where Fergus’ current will was kept.

“This is the job I wanted to talk to you about.”

Bela tilted her head to the side, going to take the envelope but you quickly pulled your hand away.

“I need your word that what you read will stay just between us. Once you’ve read it, i’m burning it,” you told her.

“Well, you have always been paranoid when it comes to trusting people. That’s why i’m surprised you stuck around in this town when Dean ditched you at the altar.”

You slammed a hand down on the table, giving her a hard glare. “Trust me, honey, if you don’t want the work - I can go to someone who does.”

“Relax,” she raised a hand in defense before you gave her the envelope, letting her read the contents.

You could see the intrigue cross her face as she neatly folded and placed the paper back in the envelope.

“What’s in it for me?” she finally asked.

“What’s your price?

“Well, as you’re an old friend let’s say 25k and those nice set of wheels out there.”

You scoffed, folding your arms and leaning back against the seat. “I’d hate to see what you charge your fucking enemies, Talbot.”

“I know you can afford it if you hire me to get the job done,” she smirked, taking a short drink from her mug.

“10k, and I keep the car.”

Bela rolled her eyes. “I don’t think you quite understand this negotiation thing. Good luck getting Fergus’ payout.”

She stood up to leave, stopping dead in her tracks when you spoke again, “If you do this, I’ll get you off of his deal list. You’re an old friend, after all.”

Bela turned to you, the relief clear in her eyes as she let out a breath.

“Done.”

You shook her hand with a smile. “Feel free to finish your coffee,” you offered, getting up and grabbing your bag. “It’s been a pleasure, as always,” you lied, feeling underlying relief in the fact she accepted.

Bela shrugged with a smirk, sitting back down and taking the mug in her hands, “by the way, I noticed some of the hunt passing your place earlier and a couple just outside when I came in. Just thought as you’re my employer now, I should give you a heads up.”

Your body tensed at her words. What the hell did they want? The Hunt weren’t supposed to come anywhere near your home, it was one place Fergus claimed completely out of bounds. He practically owned that side of the city. Did they really think those rules didn’t apply now he was gone?

“Thanks, Bela. I’ll be in touch,” you said, hoisting your bag over your shoulder and heading out to your car.

You needed to pay Dean a visit.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 Summary: You go to pay Dean a visit and it brings up the painful past.

The scent of cigarettes, beer and strong cologne hit you the moment you walked through the doors into the bunker.

The bar was always full of locals and members of the hunts gang. Plus the usual array of girls who offered their services, dolled up in makeup with short skirts, heels and thin tops.

You ignored the looks from the usual patrons as you headed straight for the bar where Ruby was working her shift. You knew it was likely everyone in this place knew who you were. The bunker was somewhere you hadn’t visited in years, but it’d hardly changed a bit.

“Y/N? Wow. This is a surprise,” the dark haired woman gaped, eyeing you suspiciously. “You want a drink?”

“No. Is he in?” You nodded your head, gesturing to the door that you knew led through to Dean and Sam’s offices.

A smirk crossed Ruby’s lips before she answered, “the bosses are in a meeting. You’re gonna have to come back later, babe.”

Rolling your eyes, you walked straight past the bar and toward the door, ignoring Ruby cursing and calling your name.

The corridors of the bunker were still decorated with the same paintings of the Lawrence just like it’d always been. Being in this part of the bar brought back memories of Dean and a nostalgia you’d rather not have.

You hesitated when you reached Dean’s office, debating on whether this really was a good idea. Did you really want to confront him here? Did you really want to risk digging up the past?

The sound of women giggling on the other side of the door quickly made your mind up for you. So much for the bosses ‘having meetings’.

You pushed open the door and were met with the sight of Dean sat in his chair with three women in nothing but lingerie around him. God, it killed you.

You gave a hard knock on the wooden door alerting the four of them of your presence. For a moment, Dean looked shell-shocked, like a deer caught in headlights as his eyes met yours and the girls abruptly got to their feet.

“Get out,” you warned.

They took next to no time in following your request. Everyone knew who you were, and even Dean’s hookers didn’t want to be caught in the middle of a gang disagreement.

Once the door closed, Dean got to his feet, running a hand through his mussed hair with a sigh.

“What’s with the timely interruption, Y/N?”

“You need to get your bikers to quit trailing me. I don’t know what kind of game your playing, but they can’t be passing my damn house.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, coming round to perch himself on the front of his desk. “I don’t know what you’re on about, sweetheart. Bikers are gonna be out wherever they want.”

You clenched your jaw at his nonchalant reply. “Don’t fucking lie to me, Dean. I’m not some dumb, love struck kid anymore. I don’t buy your shit stories,” you snapped.

He looked genuinely hurt as he ran a hand over his stubble. “I never lied to you.”

You shook your head with a scoff, all restraint on keeping your cool left you in an instant. “Sure you didn’t. Like you didn’t promise we’d leave Lawrence together after our wedding that you didn’t even show up for!” you bit back.

“My dad died, Y/N! I couldn’t just leave!” Dean’s voice rose and he got to his feet, the emotion over his face now matching yours and the tension between you only growing.

“That didn’t mean you had to take up the god damn family business!”

“And you didn’t have to marry some other fucker, but here we are!” he snapped back, his body tense and chest heaving in anger.

You closed your eyes briefly, taking a deep breath to calm yourself before looking back at him. “Just, please- get them off my back.”

“Look, it’s just a precaution, alright?” he said, his tone a little calmer. “I know Hells Sons are regrouping and I don’t like being left in the dark waiting for Ketch to make a move. Besides, I’m never gonna stop looking out for you, Y/N/N. Get used to it.”

You threw your head back and groaned in frustration.

“God, you’re fucking infuriating! I don’t need your protection, Winchester,” you told him. “I swear to god, if you don’t get your dumbass punters off my trail, I’ll reign hell on you and this fucking bar.”

Dean’s lips curved into a mocking smile, the anger still evident in his heated gaze as he replied,“Now you’re starting to sound like Fergus, sweetheart. Think maybe you’ve been living the lie a little too long. No one believes you ever loved that dickless scumbag. Let your hair down, get laid- he won’t mind.”

Angry tears pricked in the corner of your eyes, your mind phased with rage as you swiped a hand across his face with a harsh slap that rang out across the room.

“I fucking hate you,” you spat. “I wish I’d never even met you. You’re a piece of shit. Enjoy your whores, Dean.”

Turning on your heels, you made your hasty exit, barging past Benny as you stormed back through the corridors to the back exit.

“Damn, she’s still a firecracker, brother,” Benny commented as he stepped into Dean’s office, his joking facade soon disappearing when he noticed the hurt etched over his friends face and the red mark left on his cheek.

Dean wiped a hand over his face, urging the tears back. “I want a meeting with Chuck. See if he knows what Fergus’ will set out.”

“Y’mean what he left to Y/N?” Benny questioned, knowing full well that despite the hardened exterior, Dean cared for you more than anything.

“I mean, who he left the club to,” Dean stated, walking over to his cabinet and grabbing a bottle of whiskey before taking a long swig. “We can’t plan anything until we know what Ketch is up to, what hand he has left to play,” he added.

“Gotcha. I’m on it.”

“And Benny? Send the girls back in.”

Benny gave a short nod. “Sure boss.”


End file.
